


The Harder They Fall

by Mijan



Series: Academy Series Spinoff Stories (Adult-Rated) [2]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Abduction, BDSM, Bondage, Edgeplay, Electricity, M/M, Rape Role-play, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-23
Updated: 2012-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-30 01:12:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/326114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mijan/pseuds/Mijan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is having trouble coping with his first failure of the Kobayashi Maru. His bigger problem might lie in the fact that he wants to try it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My Own Warnings: Intense, hardcore, and potentially triggery. Mind-fuck. And full disclosure would ruin the story. If you want spoilers to decide if it's something you can read, feel free to ping me with questions.
> 
> Actual Notes: This story is an offshoot of my Academy 'verse. This story can stand alone, and it has no impact on the main storyline of my Academy 'verse, but it references the events of AAtKM and Crossfire. Technically, it's also in the same line of "offshoot" stories as "In Perfect Trust," taking place about a year after that fic.

“So, can you do it?” It’s a cold question, presented with no inflection, no attachment to the answer. Still, the urgency is there.

He looks across the table at a face mostly hidden in the dim light of the bar, then slowly lifts his glass to his lips. The burn of alcohol gives him a moment to think before answering. “It’s a tall order.”

“I know. But I think it’s necessary.” A grim press of lips, and a shake of the head. “Everyone has a breaking point.” Then an ironic twist of a smile. “They say some people still need to learn theirs.”

“So they say,” he says dryly. “A second try at the Kobayashi Maru, huh?”

“Maybe,” comes the irritated reply. “I don’t know if it’ll be approved, but that’s not up to me. Even if it isn’t, the request has already been submitted. It’s the intent that’s important right now.”

“That’s a whole lot of intent.” He snorts and tips his head in mock-amusement. “Definitely a sign of someone who doesn’t know his own limits. Who would do something like that?”

A harsh laugh. “Fools and madmen.” Then a shake of the head. “It’s what made me wonder if it’s gone too far.”

“Maybe it has.” The words hang between them for a moment.

“You’re the only one who can take care of this.”

“Probably. I’d like to think I do some good work.”

“You do.” Shadowed eyes and hunched shoulders lean closer. “Not a trace. Nobody else will ever know.”

“It’s still risky.” He almost manages a smirk. “What if we’re caught?”

“You’ll just have to make sure we aren’t.”

“Are you ready for the fallout?”

“Are you?” Rhetorical. They both know the answer. The question wouldn’t have been posed in the first place if the answer had been _no_. “So... when?”

He takes another deep swig of liquor, and then, leaning across the table, he fixes his face with an icy stare to match the brutal task he’d been given. “When I’m damned well good and ready.”

  
*********

  
With a self-indulgent groan, Jim shuffled into his dorm room and dropped his bag on the floor with a heavy thud, letting the door slide shut on an exhausting week.

He was sore. Really fucking sore. His advanced hand-to-hand seminar had concluded today with a two-hour marathon testing session. He was good, but Andorian martial arts were rough on the human body, especially when you’re matched up against a two-meter tall Andorian. Even twenty minutes in a hot shower after it was over had done almost nothing to help the aching muscles and abused joints. He’d used up most of his monthly water credits on that, too. On top of it all, there was a head-cold making its way around campus, and he was pretty sure he was feeling the first hint of the sore throat that half of his classmates had already caught. Still no cure for the common cold, Bones had told him. It figured.

He was absolutely certain that Bones would notice the minor limp and the way he was favoring his left shoulder before they even got to the pub, if not the slight drop in the pitch of his voice. If he was lucky, he’d be able to convince his friend that he needed beer far more than a trip to the infirmary. He really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

Jim sighed as he threw his uniform jacket onto the bed. He’d promised to meet Bones after his exam. They hadn’t seen each other all week, occupied with exams and studying. Finishing the Academy in three years was one thing; doing it without completely wearing himself out was another. He’d never been so tired in his life.

On top of everything else, his run at the Kobayashi Maru two weeks ago had been... shit. Absolute shit.

Well, actually, everyone had told him that he’d done as well as anyone else they’d seen. Better than most. Pike had complimented his double-sided approach of feigning diplomacy while trying to disable the Klingon’s weapons systems with a focused tachyon burst, but it hadn’t worked. He’d still failed the test. Failed it, after he’d asked to take it early. It was only his third year at the Academy, even though he’d been promoted to Cadet First Class. And then, it was still months to graduation. He’d been so sure he could waltz in there and blow them all away. He would become a legend - the first cadet to ever beat the test. So he’d signed up for a testing slot as soon as he thought they’d approve it... and he’d failed.

So he was going to try it again. He’d requested the second testing slot a week ago, and had received his approval today. He’d sent a message to Bones, letting him know, but the only reply he’d received was a text memo, saying they’d discuss it over dinner. But seriously, what was there to discuss? All he was doing was trying to beat an unbeatable test... again.

Fuck it all, he was out of his mind.

Most of the time, the edge of exhaustion seemed oddly satisfying. It was the feeling of pushing himself to the limits and just beyond it. It let him know that he was really giving it his all. Now, with his abject failure to achieve his goals, much less push past his limits, it had left him feeling lethargic, with an itch just beneath his skin that he was too tired to scratch. It felt like the constant uphill climb of a rodent on a spinning wheel - no finish line, no thrill of victory, no sense of fighting for something bigger.

He’d talked to a counselor last year about his need to fight. Part of it was obviously his lust for competition and strategy, and his need to test himself against everything that came his way, even if he didn’t know why. But there was something else. It wasn’t masochism... not exactly. But there was a thrill in the struggle, as if the sensation of simply being alive was heightened by the immediacy and urgency of a fight, and more so by the risk of actually losing it. It didn’t matter if the fight was a battle of wits in a class, or a ratty bar brawl that left his chest heaving and blood singing in his veins even as it oozed down his chin from a split lip. It was the sensation of pushing himself to his absolute limit, physically and mentally, with every shred of his being focused on the here-and-now. Fast action and faster thought, and reveling in the satisfaction that came with that, even if it left him in a heap on the floor.

But now... he was just tired.

Jim rummaged around in his dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans, then quickly shucked his uniform pants for the comfortable, battered denim. A moment later, he tugged a sweatshirt over his academy-issue undershirt and appraised himself in the mirror. His hair was standing up a bit, but he hadn’t bothered to force it back into regulation specs after his shower. His eyes were dull, outlined in dark shadows. Normally, he looked causal and relaxed in his civvies. Today, he just looked exhausted.

A beep from his comm reminded him that he had fifteen minutes to get to Bones’ dorm to meet him. For a moment, he stared at the comm and thought about sending Bones a quick memo: _Sorry, too tired. Maybe another day._ But no, they’d made plans. Besides, it might do him some good to get away from campus.

He gave himself one last scowl in the mirror before heading out the door, kicking his bag in disgust as he walked by.

The turbolift hummed around him, and the doors hissed open, letting him escape through the lobby and into the rapidly deepening shadows of evening. He stopped on the steps of his dorm building and took a deep breath. The chill from the ocean was already breaking the slight spring warmth that clung to the land during the day. Mild weather. Slight chill. The usual. Nauseating normalcy.

Jim was just about to head down the path when his comm beeped. He was tempted to ignore it, but some sense of duty wouldn’t let him put it off. When he flipped it open, it was a text-only message from Bones, location-tagged from Starfleet Medical. Which meant, of course, that Bones was still on the other side of the Bay. With a sigh, Jim pulled up the message.

 _Sorry, Jim. We had a couple of cadets brought into the ER with respiratory complications from this virus that’s going around. I’m still coming, but I’ll be a bit late. Maybe a half hour or 45 minutes. Wait for me in my dorm room, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. - LM  
_  
Jim flipped his comm shut and let out a long, frustrated breath. He could wait a half hour. But if Bones took longer than that, his “secret” stash of bourbon was forfeit. Stuffing his comm back into his pocket, Jim hunched his shoulders and slipped away from the halo of artificial light around the entrance of his dorm.

The path between the clusters of dorms was quiet, and the huff of his own breath was rhythmic. Aching hip, sore shoulder, and exhaustion aside, it was a nice stroll. Maybe what he really needed was a quiet weekend to recover from everything and get his head back on straight. A night at the pub with Bones seemed like a good start. Certainly couldn’t hurt.

He turned left and cut through the smaller path that bypassed the main campus. It was the quickest route to the nicer dorms. Those were for the cadets with advanced degrees. He’d always been mildly jealous that Bones had a mini-suite and he’d only gotten a cramped double-occupancy dorm room, but hey, with two doctorate degrees, Bones had earned it. Jim would just have to earn his way up the food chain on his own. In the meantime, he could enjoy the fact that his best friend had a private apartment. And that he stashed some damned fine bourbon in his kitchenette.

There was no warning.

The impact of a body against his back barely registered before he was face-down in the dirt. The heavy weight pinned him to the ground and he didn’t quite manage to make a startled cry of protest before a heavy hood was yanked roughly over his head. It smelled of leather and sour sweat. He struggled, but his attacker twisted his shoulder, wrenching the already-injured joint painfully, and he was stuck. Seconds later, the immediacy of fight-or-flight gave way to pure terror as he felt the sharp bite of a hypospray against his neck.

Time slowed down as fog crept up through his skull. The darkness in the hood seemed to become impossibly darker, and his aches faded as numbness spread through his body. The weight of his assailant was crushing his chest, and he couldn’t breathe.

His last coherent thought was that he needed to apologize to Bones for missing dinner.

  
*********

  
Everything ached. Screw the stupid shoulder and bruised hip from sparring. He barely noticed those anymore. As sensation slowly began to return to Jim’s body, it quickly became an additive process of _what else hurts_.

Through the pain, he tried to take stock of his situation. He was blindfolded, with the rough cloth of the hasty blindfold pressed too tightly against his eyelids and the knot of fabric digging into the back of his head. He was upright, and his weight was being held by his arms, which were tethered above his head at the wrists. His legs felt boneless beneath him, but the pain in his arms made him force his legs to hold his weight. It took most of the pressure off his wrists, but he was tied just high enough that he couldn’t stand comfortably.

That’s when he realized that his feet were bare against the smooth floor. Plascrete, he thought. The room was cold. And... he was completely naked.

A dozen different thoughts and theories spun in his head. He’d been robbed for his Starfleet ID and campus access. He was being used as a hostage. Terra Prime had caught up with him for what he’d done to them during his freshman year, and it was time for payback. Some crazed cadet he’d bested in evaluations had finally blown a fuse and was exacting revenge. It was Starfleet’s idea of advanced training and it all was just an elaborate simulation, because Starfleet just seemed to do shit like that. It was a prank, and the assholes from his hand-to-hand class were going to pay for this dearly.

Ghosts of memories threatened to creep from the dark recesses of his mind -- things he’d tried to put behind him. He knew all too well what being held captive felt like, and remembered too clearly the horrific things that often came with it.

Taking a few unsteady breaths, he forced himself to keep his thoughts in the present. It wasn’t going to help anything to let his own demons scare him even more. And silence wasn’t going to help him learn anything new. Swallowing against a painfully dry throat, he decided to try for the most innocent possibility first.

“Hey, guys? I know I’m a hot ticket and all, but you could have just asked. So how about we save the pranks for another day and give me back my damned pants? It’s fucking cold in here.”

His voice was hollow in the room, and the odd echo gave him more information. The room was fairly small, and had smooth surfaces with very little upholstery and fabric to muffle sound. The one thing he didn’t hear was a reply.

Jim licked his lips nervously. “Come on, guys. This is going a bit far don’t you think? Nuguru? Raske? I swear to God, if you don’t let me down from here, I’m going to wipe the mat with you the next time we do sparring. Guys?”

This time, there was the faint rustle of fabric from somewhere behind him.

“Marquez? If that’s you, so help me --”

The rush of air was all the warning he had before something ripped across his back with a sharp crack, searing like a line of fire. Too stunned to scream, he gasped against the pain that burned in his skin, intensifying for several seconds before slowly fading back.

“Your friends aren’t here.” It was a man’s voice; rough and thick. Unfamiliar. North American, but he couldn’t place the specific accent. If Jim could get him to talk more...

“Well,” Jim bit out through gritted teeth, “if we’re not friends, then isn’t this a bit much for a first date? How about we start with dinner and a holovid, then --”

There was only a brief whistle of air before the whip lashed across his back again. “You talk when I tell you to talk.”

Jim gave a grunt, trying to force the pain to the back of his mind, pushing his own anger and irritation to the forefront. “Oh, so we’re playing that game? No fucking way. How about you tell me where I am, what you want, and who the hell you think you --”

The whip struck him again, slicing across his shoulders. He clenched his teeth hard enough to make his jaw hurt, refusing to give this asshole the satisfaction of crying out.

“Demanding, aren’t you?”

Jim snarled. “When some random bastard jumps me and ruins my Friday night? You bet.”

His captor said nothing. Instead, the whip sang again, and Jim was perversely satisfied that he didn’t flinch too much. All told, he’d experienced worse in his life. He’d gotten out of much worse. He just had to figure his way out of this one.

“Listen, I don’t know what you want -” Another crack of the whip across his back made his voice break, and he took a few unsteady breaths before continuing. “- but this isn’t... _urgh!_ \- going to get you anywhere!” he finished off with throaty growl.

“Hmmph,” was the only reply, followed by another brutal lash, this one catching him just below the curve of his ass, snapping against sensitive skin.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut against the searing sting, then sneered under his blindfold. “So you’re just going to whip me all day?”

His answer was another lash of the whip.

“I’ll bet you wouldn’t have the balls to untie me and face me,” he hissed.

“Why would I want to do something like that? I’ve got you exactly where I want you.” The whip fell again.

“Coward,” Jim spat into the room.

A harsh laugh and another lash.

The pain from the individual whip marks was starting to bleed together, making Jim’s whole back burn and throb. Each time the whip struck, he’d jump, twisting away from the new bite of pain in his skin - stumbling, straining to keep his footing, and not always succeeding. His breath began to squeeze tightly in his throat. He was starting to pant to cope with it, and he forced himself to steady his breathing. Bones had taught him how to control his reactions to pain and stress by controlling his breathing. It wouldn’t do him any good to let the physical pain start getting the upper hand. He needed to derail this sooner rather than later, and if he could stay focused, he had a chance. Maybe he could goad the guy into taking off the blindfold. “Come on, at least face me like a man!”

“I am facing you.”

The whip struck again, hitting a spot that was already throbbing viciously, just below his left shoulder blade, then again without pause, and Jim couldn’t hold back the sharp cry that ripped out of his throat. “Fuck! You... _fuck_!” _So much for self-control._ “Who the hell are you and what do you want with me, you goddamned bastard?”

The anticipated bite of the whip never came, but a large hand suddenly gripped his hair, pulling his head back roughly. The man’s voice grated against his ears, breath hot against his cheek.

“My name isn’t important. And it’s not what _I_ want with you that should have you worried. You’ve pissed off some high and mighty people, Cadet James Tiberius Kirk.”

 _He knows my name_.

In a heartbeat, Jim’s sense of the power dynamic in the room became even darker. Not only did this asshole know his name, but... there were only so many people Jim had seriously pissed off this badly. Some of them wouldn’t think twice about having Jim tortured and killed for what he’d done. _Terra Prime_. Jim panted a few breaths before asking choking out, “Who?”

“People who paid well enough.” Just as quickly, the hand released his hair, and Jim’s eyes watered underneath the blindfold as he brought his head back up. Footsteps retreated from him, out of range of whips or other implements.

“Paid for what?”

“For me to bring you down a notch,” came the answer from about three meters away. “Although I must say, Kirk, that I’ve watched you long enough that I’ll enjoy dragging you down myself.”

Jim scoffed dismissively. “Wow, stalking. You know, that sounds like an unhealthy sort of obsession. I know a really good shrink who could help you with...” His voice choked off as he heard the footsteps returning, and a second later, the unmistakable sensation of the palm of a hand cracked across his face hard enough to turn his head.

“You really don’t know when to shut up for your own good, do you? I’m not the one in this room who needs a shrink.”

“Oh, and I do?”

“You will when I’m done with you.”

The voice was cold and too damned confident, and Jim was sure he wasn’t bluffing. This wasn’t a game. Holding his voice as steady as possible, dropping his tone the way he would if he was giving a command, he said, “What the hell is this all about?”

At that, the man laughed. It was a jolting, rough sound - rusty, like a man who wasn’t used to laughing. “What is this all about?” He leaned in close, fingers once again twisting Jim’s hair hard enough to make his eyes water. “What do you think it’s about, you cocky, arrogant son of a bitch? You’re just a fucking cadet, and in less than two years, you’ve gotten tangled in all sorts of shit, and you’ve pissed off some folks by being too damned ambitious for your own fucking good.”

Suddenly, the man’s chest was against Jim’s back, all cold leather with rough metal fastenings digging into Jim’s bare skin and grating against the whip marks, and something sharp was pressed to the exposed front of Jim’s neck. A furious spike of fear raced up his spine, and his heart was thundering out of control in his chest, blood rushing in his ears. He barely managed to keep from swallowing against the sensation of the knife against his throat. This guy wasn’t messing around. Jim managed a breathy whisper. “Sorry for being awesome.”

An amused snort. “They don’t want awesome, kid. Haven’t you learned that? They want good little cadets who stay in line.”

Jim’s pounding heart skipped a beat and his blood ran cold as a terrifying thought hit him. Worse than the knife at his throat. More serious than being targeted by a terrorist organization. Terra Prime didn’t want good little cadets. They wanted Starfleet to fail. On the other hand... “Wait just one fucking minute. Are you working for someone in Starfl--”

The knife pressed tighter, and Jim all but stopped breathing. He could feel sweat begin to trickle down the back of his spine.

“You’d be easier for a lot of people to take if you’d just shut up and do what you’re told instead of sticking your neck out every other day.” Jim swore the knife was starting to break skin. “But it’s too late for you to shut up. So let’s see the great James Kirk reduced to a pathetic scrap of tears. I want to see you scream.”

The knife was withdrawn as the man stepped back. Air rushed back into Jim’s lungs as he gasped in relief, shaking and shuddering at the ghost of the knife on his neck. It must have broken skin, because the sweat was making his neck sting, and he imagined the drops of sweat oozing down to his collarbone with a thin red trickle of blood.

There were footsteps moving away from him. Air currents licked at Jim’s skin, and he shivered. He could feel goose bumps prickling along his arms and the back of his neck, partially from the chill in the air, but also from the other sounds that began to reach his ears. A zipper. Rustling noises. Heavy clattering. Plastic on metal. Metal on metal. Whatever this asshole was going to do, it sounded like he had the tools of the trade, and he’d planned for this.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“Whatever I want.”

 _Obviously_ , Jim thought, gritting his teeth. “I mean... when you’re done with me? Are you going to kill me?” _  
_  
The huff of a heavy breath, but no answer.

Psych warfare. No way to know how this was going to end, and as far as Jim could see, there was no way out. He tugged at his restraints. The ropes were rough on his wrists, and were made of some sort of polymer that didn’t have any stretch whatsoever. They were tied securely and tightly enough that he’d have to dislocate his thumbs and possibly rip the skin off his wrists if he wanted to get his hands free. Even then, there was no guarantee he could do it.

And if he did get loose, then what? He was naked, and alone in a room with a man who had drugged him once, was at least carrying a knife, and possibly had other weapons. A simple escape was impossible. He’d been trained in diplomacy and hostage negotiations. Maybe he could talk to the guy. Talk him out of doing... whatever it was he planned to do.

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t bother, Kirk. I can smell the smoke from your brain circuits, and I know how those wires work.” There were more sounds of equipment shifting, and then a dark chuckle. “I know _all_ about you. Got your psych profile. You’re a messy piece of work.”

 _He’s seen my psych profile? No... no... that’s confidential. And there... there are... he’d know all about... he’d know what..._

If this guy had seen his psych profile, he had to know Jim had been taken hostage before. Had to know some of the details of his past that had left scars too deep to heal. And had probably devised all sorts of ways to rip those scars wide open again.

There was that grating laugh again. “Oh, now _that_ scares you, does it? The fact that I know your buttons. I know what terrifies you. You’re such an open book. I can see it all... and you can’t even see my face.”

“Shut up. Just... stop talking to me,” Jim bit out. “You want to torture me? You want to kill me? Whatever you want to do, just get to it.”

A snort. “Any other requests, princess?”

Something caught in Jim’s throat, and for a moment, all he could think of was Bones getting to his dorm room and finding it empty. Swallowing tightly, he managed to croak out, “Yeah. Seeing as you know every damned thing about me... let McCoy know I’m sorry I missed dinner.”

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, with no warning, the whip cracked across his back again.

Jim bit down on his lip, refusing to cry out. The lash struck again, and Jim tried to squirm away from it. He braced his muscles for the next strike, but it didn’t come... until he started to relax, and the fire tore across his skin again. There was no rhythm. No pattern. Every strike ripped across a new piece of skin, rained down without warning. Every lash was a surprise and a shock, unrelenting and uncaring. He kicked. Struggled. Pulled at his restraints and swore in every language he could remember until the words blurred into mindless yelling, but the whip didn’t stop.

The world disappeared. There was nothing beyond the stripes of pain across his back, and somewhere in the middle of everything, he’d started crying out with each strike. The blindfold felt damp, but he wasn’t sobbing. There was just the hot ooze of tears as the sense of helplessness began to sink in.

Finally, long after Jim had lost track of time, the lashes stopped. His back was burning and stinging, and he was sweating and shivering at once. He gasped and shook as footsteps moved away from him for a moment. “Fuck...” His voice was unsteady. “ _Damn it_... what do you want?”

Not a word. Just more rummaging.

“Do you want me to drop out of the Academy? Drop off the grid?” Jim shook his head to himself, compulsively testing the bindings on his wrists. “I could fail my tactics seminar if that will make people happy! _What the hell do you want_?”

The footsteps came back rapidly, and fingers closed over his neck, pressing up under his jaw. The voice was just a few centimeters in front of his face. “I already told you. I want you to break. But you won’t give up your high-and-mighty pipe dreams about guts and glory in Starfleet just because I shake a stick at you. You can promise all you want, golden boy, but as soon as you’re back in your ivory tower, you’ll scrape yourself together and get into more things you’ve got no business dealing in. No, it’s high time someone showed you your place. You need to be broken. And I know how to break you.”  



	2. Chapter 2

  
  
The man leaned closer, and his voice was rough in Jim’s ear. “Your psych report after that little crash last year was... interesting. You escaped from Starfleet Medical. Told your shrink how much it scared you to lose control. You thought that they were drugging you. Hated that you couldn’t just get up and leave. That was some really interesting reading.”

Jim was gasping, straining for breath where the man was squeezing his neck, but his throat would have been tightening anyway. “How... how did you... get those records? Those are... confidential!”

“You think anything in this world is private? Piss off the wrong people with the right clearances, and your life is an open book.” Then, right next to the man’s fingers on his neck, there was a familiar pressure. “Scared of being drugged, huh?” The hypospray bit into his skin with a terror-inducing hiss.

Jim clenched his teeth against the panic threatening him. “What was that?” he grunted, but even as he did, a tingling sensation began in his hands and feet. “What the _fuck_?” The tingling spread, and soon, it felt like every nerve in his body felt like a live wire.

The man leaned in close again, and there was a breath on his cheek. “It’s like _this_.”

Before Jim could snap back with a sarcastic quip, fingernails raked across his chest. It might as well have been high-energy plasma venting on him, as excruciating pain blossomed along the trails of those scratches, spreading through him. It was too much. It was overwhelming. Even the places where the whip had struck him earlier started to burn again, building and building. The brutal fingers dug into his skin a second time. Finally, Jim screamed.

“Oh, that’s _so_ much better! How do you like that now, Kirk?” Fingers latched on to his left nipple, squeezed, and twisted.

Jim howled. “What the... goddamn... fucking... kind of sick... _bastard_!”

“Oh, you didn’t think this was going to be simple, did you?”

“Why are you _doing_ this?”

A hand gripped his jaw tightly. “I already told you. Same answer this time, princess.” And the man’s other hand raked a slow set of scratches down his chest... down his stomach... and suddenly grasped his cock.

Too much... too much... “ _AAAAAGH_!”

And twisted.

Jim was gasping and sobbing and writhing and _fuckyoufuckyouletmegoFUCK_.

The vicious fingers on his jaw and cock suddenly disappeared, leaving the echoes of sensation throbbing and stinging across hypersensitive nerves. Jim’s breath was raw and ragged in his throat as he desperately tried not to hyperventilate. The room rocked and spun around him. With the blindfold, he was completely disoriented. The ropes on his wrists seemed even rougher now, and the chill of the floor against his feet shot stabbing sensations up his legs.

Where did this asshole get his psych records? How much did he know? What else was in those records that could be used against him? And what the _hell_ had been in that hypospray?

It had been bad enough being tormented from the outside, but this was attacking him from the inside. It was in his body, rushing through his veins... the ultimate inescapable torment. The only thing more insidious would be to wreck his mind, and it seemed like that was what this guy eventually wanted to achieve.

He didn’t have long to ponder it before Sadistic Bastard was back. A hand dug sharply into the pressure point at the side of his neck, and Jim screamed as his knees buckled. His feet were kicked wide apart and before Jim could gather his wits to react, something cold and blunt was pressed roughly into his ass, stretching with a vicious burn.

Jim tried to pull his feet back under him, but the hand on his pressure point dug in again, and he was helpless. Something was snapped around the base of his cock, cold and metallic. His neck was released, but his nerves were fried, pain continuing to stab through his shoulder and his neck, leaving him unable to resist as he was manhandled into what felt like a harness of leather straps. The straps tightened around his waist and threaded between his legs, pressing the thing in his ass even tighter. Finally, something was clipped to the ring on his cock, and the whole rig was pulled tight.

The pressure in his ass started to transition from the shock of the unprepared penetration into an uncomfortable burn. He moaned weakly, feeling beaten up from the inside out, helpless, and fearful at the sinking realization of where this was probably going. The whip had been nothing but a warm-up. Worst of all, and most deeply betraying, he felt his cock starting to harden.

“You delicious little slut,” the man’s voice mocked from a couple of meters away. “I thought you might react like this. No man who likes to fight as much as you do doesn’t get off on pain. So fucking transparent. You’ve got a reputation on campus - you just can’t keep it in your pants. I wonder what your conquests would say if they saw this.”

“You don’t know anything about the people I sleep with,” Jim gasped between clenched teeth.

“There’s not a damned thing about you that Starfleet doesn’t know. And what they know... I know.” Two footsteps, and there was a hand on the leather strap at Jim’s waist. “But I might know a few more things now.” He tugged at the strap. The movement pushed the plug deeper into Jim’s ass, causing him to yelp and squirm. Apparently, whatever drug this asshole had dosed him with didn’t just sensitize the nerves on the outside. His cock seemed to agree.

Under his blindfold, Jim squeezed his eyes tightly shut against the humiliation he was feeling. “Damned bastard! You getting off on this? Is this what they paid you to do? You just waiting to fuck me before you kill me, you pervert?”

“They told me to do whatever I thought you needed,” came the easy answer. “But my job isn’t to fuck you... or even necessarily to kill you, although I still might. I’m here to break you. But what’s the fun of breaking your toys before you play with them?”

The rough, gravelly voice grated against Jim’s ears, but the message stabbed even deeper. Sometimes, it helped to know what was coming. Not this time. Being killed was one thing. Being raped was another. But those were both their own ends... simple things in a sense, that would at least be over eventually, and all he had to do was to endure the ordeal until it ended. This was something else entirely. This guy wanted to break him, and that fact lodged in Jim’s mind like a splinter of glass. This wouldn’t be over until Jim had broken, whatever that would entail, and there was no way around it. This guy wasn’t going to stop until he made sure of it.

A dozen different possibilities flashed through Jim’s mind. The sting of the whip was still sharp in his mind, with the welts still burning on his back. Maybe there would be more beatings. The plug in his ass with the harness holding it in place, and he knew that was going nowhere good. The guy was obviously willing to drug him, so that was still a threat. Anything was possible, and as far as Jim could see - which, being blindfolded, wasn’t much - there was no way out of it.

No-win scenario.

It was a damned no-win scenario. A failure waiting to happen. His own failure.

Whatever this bastard decided to do with him, the result was the same. Jim Kirk was going to break.

 _No._

Jim was so lost in his thoughts that he startled when he realized the man was directly in front of him again. In a heartbeat, Jim’s fear spurred him into a desperate struggle. He balled his hands into fists and put all his weight onto his arms as he lashed out with his feet, kicking and cursing and flailing. He felt his foot connect with the man’s leg, causing an outburst of swearing from the bastard. He felt a momentary flash of victory before the rapid footsteps darting away from him told him that something bad was coming.

There was a familiar clicking sound, and it took Jim all of two seconds to realize what was coming. Unfortunately, it only took a second and a half for the man to come up behind him and jam the hypospray against his neck. Jim tried to kick backwards, but the man was already out of reach. Almost immediately, a wave of dizziness washed over him. The room began to tilt and sway, and it seemed impossible to keep his legs solidly underneath him. He sagged, and only the restraints on his wrists were keeping him upright.

 _Muscle relaxant_ , Jim thought vaguely. _  
_  
“You must really want to make this harder on yourself, Kirk,” the man growled. “But then, you can’t do anything the easy way. It’s amazing you’ve survived this long.”

“Fuck you,” Jim said... or tried to say. His mouth didn’t seem to be working right. But even though his body felt weak and on the verge of collapse, the drug did nothing to cloud the sharp edge of fear. Based on the way his nerves were still screaming with oversensitivity, it was doing nothing to counteract the first drug, either.

But then the man was directly in front of him again. Jim tried to kick out, but the drug had left him barely able to keep some of his weight off his own wrists, much less to struggle. For all he wanted to resist whatever unknown, unseen threat was coming --to writhe and kick and fight back -- he couldn’t.

And then, something sharp was pressing against the skin of his chest, piercing straight down, burning as it embedded itself into his left pectoral muscle.

Jim gasped in pain as something smooth and sticky was placed over it, holding it in place. “Wha... wha’zis...” But without pause, he was interrupted as the same thing happened to the other side of his chest - a sharp stab, then what felt like an adhesive patch.

“According to your psych profile,” the man said with infuriating calmness, “you’ve made a long history of fighting. Nice criminal record for a Starfleet cadet. And you do a lot of hand-to-hand combat. Which means you’re used to being hit. That’s nothing new for you. Made it a bit harder to figure out what to do with you.”

Another needle was unceremoniously shoved into the upper part of his left arm and taped down, rapidly mirrored on his right arm. Jim was starting to feel the grip of a cold panic. “Wha’ are... you... doing...” His tongue was still clumsy in his mouth, but while the muscle relaxant had destroyed his ability to fight, it had done nothing to dull the over-sensitized nerves that were screaming all over his body. The bits of metal piercing his flesh seemed to stab to his core, with pain racing through his chest, up and down his arms.

A sharp stab in his left thigh. More adhesive tape. Right thigh. And a dark chuckle. “Hmmm... would it be easier if you knew what was coming, or harder? I wonder...” There was a sudden tug at the needle on the left side of his chest, and the sound of metal clicking against metal. Something thin and light brushed against Jim’s skin, and he realized with a start that it was a wire. “These --” He twisted the piece of metal in Jim’s left arm, causing Jim to gasp as pain shot down all the way to his fingers. “-- are electrodes. And these --” Another click of metal on metal, and the brush of a wire dangling against Jim’s arm. “-- are electrical wires. You’re a smart boy, aren’t you?” He slapped Jim’s cheek twice, just hard enough to sting. “Of course, that’s part of the problem...”

An icy splinter of fear twisted through Jim’s stomach at the thought of what was being done to him, and at the harsh reminder that _anything_ could be done to him, while he had no chance of fighting back. This guy claimed he’d seen Jim’s psych profile, and now Jim was sure of it. Shards of his disparate fears - the blindfold, the drugs, the lack of control, the determination to break him - were being woven together into a brand new nightmare. He felt his resolve crumbling as surely as he felt the sharp bits of metal embedded in his body.

“No... please... no. We c’n talk ‘bout thss. Wha’d’ya wan’? I’ll co’perate.” The desperate whimper that escaped him was pathetic, but his mouth didn’t want to form words anymore. The man finished clipping wires to all the sites, and for the first time, Jim was almost perversely grateful for the blindfold, because he knew the visual would send him into a raw panic.

“Of course you’ll cooperate. You don’t have a choice. So, let’s show you how this works. Kirk... why did you join Starfleet?”

The question caught Jim by surprise. “B’cause Capt’n Pike dared me,” he slurred, too afraid to lie, too afraid to hesitate. “I want’d t’be somethi’g more.”

“Wrong answer.”

Jim didn’t even have time to draw in a breath before his nerves seemed to catch fire from the inside out. The pain radiated out from every electrode, shooting through his body like uncontrolled phaser bursts, burning him as his muscles jumped and twitched. Burning... he was burning from the inside...

And it stopped.

Or, at least, the very worst of it stopped. He felt as though every muscle and nerve had been rubbed raw and shredded, leaving nothing but the tattered remains. His ears were ringing, and somewhere beyond that, he could hear that man talking again.

“Let’s try this again, Kirk. Why did you join Starfleet?”

Gasping and panting through the pain, Jim said the next thing that came to mind. “I want’d t’be like my father... fo’ow ‘n hss footsteps.”

“Wrong answer again.”

It was worse the second time. Burning through muscle and racing along nerves like liquid fire. Drowning out the rest of the world. Screaming in his ears like the sound of his own voice because he _was_ screaming, and he couldn’t stop. His body spasmed and his skin crawled. It seemed to go on forever before the active burn turned into the shaky aftermath of trembling muscles and twitching skin.

There were tears oozing into the blindfold, which was damp and rough, clinging to his face. Beyond the blindfold and the roar of blood in his ears, a careless voice laughed.

“Wow, Kirk, I’d almost think you like that. Such a smart boy, I’d guess you could figure out the answers easily.”

“F-ff-fuck you,” Jim managed to get out.

“Not from where you’re dangling. But here, I’m a sympathetic guy, so let me help you with the answer here.” A couple of footsteps brought him closer. “You joined Starfleet because you think you’re hot shit.”

“No, I -”

The electrode embedded in his left pectoral twisted viciously, cutting him off with a muffled cry. The man kept right on talking, in that infuriatingly calm growl, as he continued to slowly press and twist the electrode into Jim’s flesh.

“The rules don’t apply to you. You skipped the normal application process. Thought you could just waltz in and take the place by storm. Three year graduation plan.” He snorted. “You joined because you just think you’re something so goddamned special. Say it.”

With all those uncomfortable half-truths pushing him towards something he didn’t want to hear, Jim couldn’t stop himself from shaking his head. “I... no... I didn’t...”

A brief surge of pain through the electrodes lasted just long enough to make him yelp, but released him quickly.

“Cadet First Class James Tiberius Kirk,” the man said in an almost singsong growl, mocking and sneering. “Certified for two assistant teaching positions halfway through your second year, and you’re only using one of them.” Heavy footsteps moved around Jim in a slow orbit; the man was circling him like a predator toying with its prey. “Elite flight squad, even though you’re not planning to be a pilot. Xenolinguistics club, despite the fact that you’re not studying languages... and it seems you’re fluent in six. But you sure know how to cuss in more than that.”

This guy was dropping hint after hint about how much he knew about Jim’s life, and with every fact, Jim felt more and more exposed. Nudity was inconsequential; this man seemed to know everything. “How... who the f-fuck... gave you access... to my profile?” Jim panted, but he was only answered by another brief zap. It didn’t seem quite as bad as the previous shock, but it was enough to shut him up.

“And to top it all off, they pinned you with the fucking Medal of Honor because you went and got yourself caught by Terra Prime.”

Jim’s mouth fell open, and he opened his eyes wider as if he could stare straight through the blindfold. That was classified. At first, Jim had asked Pike not to make the award public because he hadn’t wanted the attention. However, only a week after he and Bones had barely escaped from Terra Prime alive, a reliable tip came through that remaining operatives were trying to find out who those two cadets had been who had managed to destroy the Terra Prime headquarters. They were on a hit-list, and so was the Academy. So everything from that debacle had been classified to protect Starfleet security information, as well as Jim and Bones.

Even if this asshole wasn’t actually working for Terra Prime, he certainly had valuable information that he could sell to people who wanted to see Jim Kirk’s head on a platter.

“I didn’t mean... it was an accident,” Jim stammered, only a little bit relieved to notice that his muscle control was returning, and his tongue didn’t seem so dead in his mouth. The muscle relaxant was wearing off. “We got kidnapped. We were just trying to survive. I never wanted an award.”

“Why’d you join Starfleet, Kirk?”

“Because I wanted to do something great!” Jim snarled, finally getting his feet back underneath him and making a lunge against his restraints.

For a moment, there was silence, then a harsh laugh. “And look at you now. How great is that?”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but this time, he had nothing. Nothing to say. Nothing at all. Restrained, blindfolded, drugged, and wired up like a sick engineering experiment. He was weak. Pathetic. He wasn’t great. He wasn’t anything.

Then, out of the blue, he felt something tug and click at the metal ring around the base of his cock.

“What the --”

A backhand across the face silenced and stunned him just long enough for a hypospray to jab viciously against his neck.

“Ouch! What the hell is that?” He got his silent answer a split second later as his nerves began to tingle viciously. It was a second dose of whatever had hyper-sensitized him before.

“Can’t let you get too comfortable, princess.”

A distant stinging burn began in each of the electrodes... and at the base of his dick. Jim gasped, realizing that this particular torture technique had taken an insidious turn -- a wire had been hooked to the cock ring, too. Jim couldn’t stop himself from twitching and writhing as the burn increased until it was almost too much to handle. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding - _AAGH_!” The level of pain in his right thigh spiked suddenly, then quickly faded back to just below his tolerance threshold.

“Just something to keep you busy while I let you think about your career.” Footsteps began retreating. “Don’t get too bored in here.”

There was the sound of a doorknob twisting, hinges squeaking, then the door clicking shut just as a spike of pain lanced through Jim’s left arm.

“OUCH! Motherfucker!” He screamed into the room. Surely this guy wouldn’t have left Jim unsupervised. This was a psychological trick. A mind-fuck. The bastard had to be watching. “What the hell is wrong with you! Come back here and - _aah! FUCK!_ ” This time the pain level spiked through the right side of his chest, like a kick in the ribs, leaving him panting for breath. “What is it? You can’t handle watching your own handiwork? Come back and face me, asshole!”

His diatribe was cut off with an agonized scream by a sudden shock to his groin. His legs buckled beneath him and short-circuited any chance for clear thought. At the same time, he felt a jolt through his ass and suddenly remembered the plug that had been clipped to the ring around his cock. That part didn’t hurt, not exactly, but it seemed far worse. He growled through the pain, both terrified and furious as his cock began to harden. So it was like _that_.

As that jolt faded, Jim tried to focus. He was presumably alone. His hands were tied. He had only a moment between each shock, although the tingling burn didn’t really let up at all. This might be his chance to work his hands out of the restraints. But if he was going to do anything, he had to -

A spike of pain in his chest cut his attempted scheming short. It felt like someone was jabbing a hot spike straight through his ribcage. By the time it had faded, he’d lost his train of thought. Everything hurt, and he was already starting to shake again. His wrists were raw against the restraints. _That’s right... the restraints_.

Jim began tugging and manipulating his right wrist in the loop of rope... only to be cut off by another sharp pulse through his groin and ass. Taken completely by surprise, he jolted, and his legs went out from underneath him.

It faded back as quickly as it had struck, reducing to the underlying burn that never stopped. Desperate to keep a handle on his reactions, Jim forced himself to breathe evenly. _The restraints... I need to try --_ but before he could grasp on to the thin string of thoughts he’d been weaving, it was snapped by another jolt, this time through his right arm.

And the slow assault continued. He kept hoping he could adjust to it, get to the point where his body could tolerate it, but every shock was just as bad as the last. He couldn’t think. He didn’t have enough time to gather his wits between shocks. Soon, the world dissolved into an irregular rhythm. He had no idea how long it would take for the next shock to hit, or where it would strike him. In the too-brief moments between jolts, there was never enough time to get any sense of control over his body and mind. All that existed was bracing himself for the next spike of pain, knowing that when it came, there would be no way to stop it. He couldn’t curl in on himself. Couldn’t hide. Couldn’t move.

Eventually, he noticed that even his throat hurt, and that’s when he realized he’d been screaming almost the entire time.

Somewhere in the middle of all that, broken thoughts and images came to mind. Nothing coherent. Nothing that could help him escape. Just little things. Stupid things. In the brief, fleeting moments between shocks, it helped.

He remembered his first birthday after joining Starfleet, when Bones had helped him get drunk and forget, then had fixed his hangover in the morning. He remembered helping Bones get over the aviophobia... while Bones had helped him with his own issues. There was the time he’d whacked his head on the Parisi Squares platform and had ignored it until he’d passed out in Bones’ dorm room, and Bones had dragged his sorry ass to the infirmary. There was Bones smiling at him proudly after his flight team had placed second for the Rigel Cup. And he remembered his stupid escape from Starfleet Medical, and Bones finding him - against all odds, finding him just as he’d collapsed - and saving him yet again.

And he wasn’t going to be abandoned this time, either. Bones would help him. Bones would -

Jim blinked beneath his blindfold. His eyes felt crusty and damp, but the tears had stopped. His body was shaking, limbs twitching, but he could actually feel his body beyond the pain. He could breathe. He waited, wondering when the next shock would come and dissolve his brief grasp on lucidity, but it didn’t. His throat was raw and sore, and his entire body felt like he’d been beaten to hell from the inside out but for now, it seemed like it had all stopped.

Then the doorknob clicked.

Footsteps.

Jim opened his mouth, trying to think of something to say - some obnoxious, sarcastic quip to throw at this guy, to continue pushing his own defiance... but his vault of rhetoric came up completely empty. He wanted to feel indignant, but even that had crumbled. All he could feel were exhaustion and pain, leaving him shivering, trembling.

He waited for his captor to say something, to throw some insult or dig at him with another demeaning question, but the man didn’t say anything. Instead, there were suddenly fingers on the thin leather straps digging into his pelvis and waist, and the straps came loose. He couldn’t even react as, once again, his feet were pushed out to the side.

Jim whimpered, hoping that the guy was done with him, and would remove the plug and the ring and the electrodes and maybe he’d leave him until rescuers came. Or maybe he’d finally decide it was too much effort and just kill him. And then the plug was unceremoniously pulled from his ass. Jim cringed at the weak, defeated noise he made, but he couldn’t do anything else. He was too wrung out, exhausted, and ashamed to think that maybe this guy was actually going to defeat him.

Suddenly something large and blunt and cold was pressing up against his over-sensitive hole.

“No... please...”

There was no hesitation as the plug - larger this time - was slowly but firmly pressed into his ass. He tried to buck away, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or horrified that the plug felt lubricated, that the slick slide of it pushed its way in with too little resistance. All he could do was try to breathe as it stretched his hole, penetrating deeper until the stretch suddenly eased up as his muscles clenched around the narrower neck of the plug. He moaned weakly, and tried to push it out, but the straps had already been secured over it, holding it in place.

Jim waited again for the man to say something... to lecture him, taunt him... but the only sound was footsteps, backing away, but not far. He got the sense that the guy was simply staring at him, appraising, taking him apart with his eyes and deciding how long to let Jim wait for... whatever was coming next. Exposed, wrecked, physically drained. His nerves were frayed, his muscles kept muscles twitching occasionally, and he was just too weak to fight back. It was almost like surrender.

 _Surrender_.

Something hot, a smoldering mixture of fury and shame, swelled in Jim’s chest. He’d stopped fighting. He’d given in to the physical torment and exhaustion, and he’d let himself surrender.

His breath felt tight in his throat, squeezed in his lungs, as he tried to fight back. Tried to get some strength back into his legs. Desperately wracked his brain for words to throw back into the room he couldn’t see at the bastard he couldn’t face directly. Before he could, however, the plug in his ass pulsed.

“No...” Weak and rough and breathy, it didn’t even sound like Jim’s own voice, but it was.

He clenched his teeth, waiting for the intensity to ratchet up, waiting for it to turn into pain, but it just pulsed again. It was intense, but not painful. Not painful at all. A tingling pulse that felt like it was throbbing through his ass straight to his groin. Straight to his cock.

The heat in Jim’s chest suddenly lodged in his cheeks, burning his eyes, as he realized what this round was going to be. Despite the sharp edge of pain still ringing through his body from overloaded nerves and the still-burning whip marks along his back and thighs -- or maybe partially because of it, if he was honest with himself -- he felt his cock slowly begin to harden.

A choked sob escaped him, and he twisted against his restraints, writhing as if he could somehow escape the deep thrumming that was pushing wave after wave of sensation through his ass, against his prostate. “You can’t... not like... like this,” he gasped out, too horrified at his situation to even care that he sounded like he was about to cry. He wasn’t, though. He refused to cry.

He was so fucking pathetic. He couldn’t even imagine what he looked like just then, but his brain tried to paint the shameful picture anyway. His back would be covered in red welts. Some of the whip lashes had certainly broken skin. Red marks across his face from where the guy had slapped him. The bruises he got from his hand-to-hand exam probably stood out in purple relief again the rest of his skin. And then, with every movement, he could still feel the thin weight of the wires tugging against the electrodes that were embedded in his muscles, as if they were only there to remind him of the fact that the shock treatment could start again at any moment. His wrists were bound above his head, and he was completely exposed. Completely helpless.

Buried memories of past terrors tried to push back to the surface, but they didn’t hold up. Those memories had been painted with fear. This... this was shame. Shame, because on some level, he’d accepted this. On some level, he’d given in. He’d quit, like the fucking failure he was.

Maybe he honestly believed that he wouldn’t escape.

Which meant he had nothing left to lose. Perversely, that thought alone gave him a surge of courage. He clenched his jaw in defiance of his own surrender, even as he snarled at his captor.

“So are you gonna... tell them... everything? All the... juicy details? Some Starfleet brass... gonna get their... rocks off on this?”

The only response was a brief shock across his chest, temporarily knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, sucking in air with a tight wheeze.

“Is that all... you can do? Just keep... hitting buttons?”

Nothing. Just the continued pulsing in his ass, tormenting his abused hole and straining cock.

“You wouldn’t dare... to untie me... because... you couldn’t... take me yourself... fucking...jackass.”

There was no reply, but over the blood rushing in his ears, he swore he could hear the guy breathing just a bit too quickly.

“Oh, so... you’re... getting off on... this shit,” Jim panted, trying to sound coherent, knowing he really wasn’t. “Does this... make you... feel powerful? Huh?”

He got no words in reply, but Jim swore the pulsing in his ass suddenly got stronger, and he tried to hold back a groan, which turned into a muffled grunt. “Sick... bastard! Just gonna... stand there and... watch! _Ugh_!”

“Maybe I will.”

Another heavier pulse from the plug thrummed against his prostate, and his knees wobbled. There was no way he was going to let himself give in to this. No way he was going to let his body actually become _aroused_ by this man’s devices. He _couldn’t_ let it get to him. Because if he did, that would mean the other guy had won. More to the point, it would mean that James Kirk had lost, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle that.

He could take a few hits. Broken bones, lacerations, injuries, pain... he could handle those. Those were things being done _to_ him, and all there was for him to do was to endure it until it ended. But this was something different. Even as he desperately tried to will his cock into submission, his own body fought to betray him, and he didn’t have the energy left to resist. The ring at the base of his prick felt tighter as the blood rushed into his abused, hyper-sensitized flesh.

“Now isn’t that a sight,” the rough voice taunted him. “Are you something special now, Kirk? Just look at you. You’re ready to start humping the air for me, and all I need to do is watch. How strong are you? Can you resist? I doubt it. But let’s see you try.”

Jim wanted to snarl back, but if he spared enough attention to speak, he’d completely lose control. The man’s voice that had grated on his ears fell silent again, but the silent scrutiny was worse. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, and it made him shiver. And the shiver ran up his spine and back down again, lodging in his groin. He couldn’t hold back a grunt, then a moan, like a wanton slut.

He was so pathetic. Laid out bare in front of a stranger who was playing him like a puppet on string and wires. The ‘ _great Jim Kirk’_ who couldn’t even keep control over his own mutinous cock.

He wasn’t great. Greatness was his father. Greatness was Zephram Cochrane and Neil Armstrong and Vespucci and Magellan. How the hell could he think he’d be so great? Beaten by the Kobayashi Maru. Watched his copilot die next to him last year, helpless to stop it. Victim of the demons from his past. Couldn’t recognize the threat living in his own dorm room because he was so fixated on grand conspiracy theories. Tripped up again and again by his pathological obsession with his own self-importance.

And now here he was, twitching and writhing helplessly as his captor slowly stimulated him without a word.

He was almost grateful for the impersonal edge to this. Glad the bastard wasn’t speaking, wasn’t actually touching him. He could almost let himself imagine that this wasn’t just another facet of some psychopath’s process to break him apart, wear him down, and expose every last private thing he had to hide. He could imagine that he was alone in the room, that there were no lecherous eyes witnessing his shame. Was almost tempted to give in to the sensation of pleasure just to escape the pain and torment that had wrung him out and left him weak and helpless.

But if he gave in to the escape of pleasure, it would mean that he’d let himself break.

Even as he fought with himself, however, the plug kept pulsing in his ass, vibrating against the rim of his hole, thrumming against his prostate. He swore he could feel it all the way to the base of his cock, but he couldn’t let himself give in.

Then he felt another shock, this time from the electrodes in his chest, and he yelped in surprise. It wasn’t painful this time. Not really. Just... stimulating. For the first time, he realized how close they’d been placed to his nipples. _Fuck no_.

The shock reverberated down his chest, catching his breath, and he felt his whole body tremble. Even though it wasn’t really painful, his nerves were completely wrung out, and his body was too weak. A crack tore through his determination to resist, and he gasped as his cock twitched. Even as he moaned a weak, “ _No_ ,” he couldn’t stop the instinctive thrust of his hips into the air, his body desperate for friction.

Shame burned through him, and he shook his head violently. He couldn’t let himself do this. With renewed effort, he began pulling against the restraints on his wrists. The skin there was already rubbed raw, but the pain was almost insignificant compared to the desperate embarrassment and the need to curl in on himself and hide, to get out of sight and escape the cold eyes watching his every move. His toes dug for purchase against the smooth, cold floor as he writhed and flailed, scrambling for the impossible escape that was just out of his reach.

Another mild shock throbbed across his chest, just as the plug in his ass pulsed again, and he yelped, unable to hold back the wanton thrust of his hips. He tried to get his legs under him again, but another pulse left him dangling from his restraints.

He wanted to yell and scream at his captor. He wanted to hurl the worst slew of obscenities he could assemble in defiance. But his outward defiance would also be an acknowledgement of the fact that the man was watching his every move, observing his body’s betrayal. The guy was probably getting his own rocks off on this.

Another pulse surged through him, throbbing against his prostate, and obscenely, he felt the edge of an approaching orgasm as his balls began to tighten. Frantic and horrified, he pulled even harder at his restraints. “No! Stop, please... stop...” Another shock reduced his abbreviated mantra into a string of gibberish, and his cock strained against the ring around its base.

Each thrum pushed him closer. His body was too abused and his mind too overwhelmed to fight it. His hips thrust into the air as the assault continued from within. He couldn’t resist. He couldn’t escape it. The pulses became more frequent, the vibrations became more intense, and he strained and groaned against the onslaught, wishing it would just be over.

He didn’t realize the man was directly in front of him until he felt fingers brush against the base of his cock, and suddenly the ring was gone. It was the last tether holding back his unwanted climax.

With an unbridled howl of anger and embarrassment, he came hard and furious, spasming and jolting.

In the throes of orgasm, he almost didn’t feel the hands releasing leather straps of his harness; didn’t quite notice the slight tugging sensation on the plug until it was removed from him in one sudden, cruel yank. Still gasping from his own climax, he didn’t have enough control over his own body to resist as an arm tightened around his neck and a cock pressed into him in a relentless thrust, spearing him to the core in one motion.

With the arm tight around his neck, he couldn’t move, and he rasped for air as a hot breath huffed against his cheek.

“So this is Jim Kirk,” said the rough voice that sounded like a figment of a nightmare. “This is the man who thought he owned Starfleet just by walking through the door.”

Jim could only moan as the cock in his ass almost completely withdrew, then thrust back in roughly. Distantly, he was grateful that he wasn’t dry, and had already been stretched, because the press of flesh into his abused hole was thick and heavy, hot and forceful. Then he hated himself for feeling even a fleeting sense of gratitude for such a perverse favor. He felt used, thoroughly trashed, and worthless. And this guy wasn’t done yet, as he pulled back and pressed in again, claiming the territory he’d already taken by force.

“Can you handle this, Kirk?” the man spoke with a grunt, less controlled than he’d been before as he gave another harsh, jolting thrust.

“I can... can handle... I --”

The arm squeezed his neck just a little bit tighter; clearly, he wasn’t meant to talk.

“You’ve scrapped through your life, and then suddenly you think you’re so high and mighty. But this is what you really deserve. This is what people really think of you. You’re nothing but a fucking rag, you arrogant brat,” he snarled as he thrust hard enough that Jim almost felt his feet leave the floor.

Jim choked off a tight cry, but he couldn’t fight back. All he could do was take it. The guy was right. He was the bottom of the fucking barrel. One man had reduced him to this. One man had stripped him to his core, had taken everything, and was still finding more to wring out of him.

“You want to beat the fucking Kobayashi Maru, do you? You think you’re the man who can do the impossible and just show the world. And then, maybe the world will care about poor little Jimmy Kirk.” The guy drove forward so sharply that Jim swore he felt his insides shift. “But let me give you a hint, princess. The world isn’t going to step aside because James Tiberius Kirk waltzes in. And if you keep up this bullshit, this little punishment is going to seem like nothing.”

Jim felt a thin, keening sound work through his throat, and realized that hot tears were beginning to ooze into his blindfold again. The man’s voice in his ear was as relentless as the cock in his ass, and they were both just as viciously punishing.

“Yeah, Kirk... you think you’ve stepped on people’s toes this time, but this is nothing. You’ve stuck your neck out one too many times, and if you keep going, you’re not going to be able to handle the consequences.” Fingers dug sharply into Jim’s hip, cruel and possessive, and Jim bit down on his lip to hold back a tight whine as the man continued to hiss in his ear.

“You’re not worth shit. You’re going to push your luck too far someday, and you’re gonna find out that you’re not the hot-shot you think you are. And the more you keep going out on a limb, the sooner you’re going to break it. It’s only a matter of time.”

It was true. It was him against the world, and he couldn’t win every time. If he wanted to be a leader, he had to be _capable_. He had to be strong. He had to able to stick his neck out and win. But how could he trust himself to save other people... if he couldn’t even save himself from one man? He was so weak.

“Pathetic,” the voice growled, sending a harsh shiver down Jim’s spine. “You’re so sure of yourself, aren’t you, princess? But you’re pathetic. And all your prancing and risk-taking is going to lead you off the edge of a damned cliff, and you can’t fly. You’re going to bring down everyone around you when it happens.”

“No... I’m not,” Jim gasped out, but the words got swallowed by a choked sob.

“And that’s the real problem, ain’t it? All the people who are going to die because you’re too goddamned full of yourself to know when to stop.”

The man’s words were cold and damning, and Jim whimpered as much in dismay as in pain as the assault on his ass continued. “No...”

“Why are you taking the Kobayashi Maru again?” The man shook Jim harshly as he thrust into him. “Arrogant fucking daredevil - _why_?”

“B’cause if I don’t... I fail.” The words were muddled; the pitiful blubbering of a broken man.

“You already failed, asshole.”

“No!” he cried, trying to wrench himself away from the man’s grasp, only to have the fingers on his hip clench tighter. He gritted his teeth and growled. “No! I’m not... gonna fail! Not gonna... quit!”

“So who dies when you refuse to quit out there in the black, princess? Are you going to take that risk? Make it all about you and your heroics when there are lives on the line? Well, hot shot?” He shook Jim hard enough to rattle teeth. “ _Well_?”

An image blossomed in Jim’s mind... of his father... no, _himself_ , alone on the bridge of the _Kelvin_. Fires breaking out over the ship. Knowing that he was going to die. But he could save everyone else. It wasn’t over yet. There were people depending on him... lives he’d sworn to defend.

The image shifted to the Kobayashi Maru simulation. He was on the fake bridge, and he could see the _Maru_ on the screen, with three Klingon warbirds between them. There were people on that ship, waiting for him to save them. They weren’t real, but they might as well be. And if he quit on them, he’d really and truly fail.

The failure wasn’t about him.

He’d thought it was about himself. In defiance of his own past, he’d wanted to be perfect. Prove everyone wrong when they said he’d sabotaged his own future and ruined any chance he’d ever had. He’d had an insane need to be a hero, as if that could wipe away every failure of his life. Fill his father’s shoes. Achieve. Accomplish. Exceed and fucking _win_ , because he’d wanted to be the best for no other reason than the simple fact that he wanted it for himself.

No.

At the end of the day, he wanted his life to matter. He wanted to be _that_ guy who put his ass on the line for something greater. He wanted to be someone people turned to in a crisis because they would know that _he_ could do the impossible. _He_ was the man who wouldn’t quit. And _he_ would be the guy people could trust to bring everyone home alive. He was a man that people would want on their team, part of their team, leading a team. He could lead and motivate people, bring them together, and do whatever it took because he _had_ to bring everyone home alive.

Because he fucking cared.

“I... I’ll do... what I need to do...” Tightness started to build in Jim’s chest that had nothing to do with the arm wrapped around his neck. The simple starkness of the realization was like a kick in the gut. The rush of emotion stuck in his throat, threatening to choke him. The air felt too thin, and the room felt like it was tipping around him. Behind the darkness of the blindfold, spots began to swim in front of his eyes.

That rough voice was still growling in his ear, pushing for answers. “When the shit hits the fucking fan, it’s going to be you against the world, and your overblown ego isn’t going to be enough. Do you think you have what it takes, asshole?”

Somewhere, from beyond the dizziness and overwhelming sensations, Jim heard himself say, “ _Yes_.”

“Oh, you do, do you?” Hips were slapping hard and furious against his ass cheeks, and the guy’s voice was strained and broken. “Think you... you’re so special?”

“ _No_.” He wasn’t getting enough air. Couldn’t breathe.

“Then why... do you think... you’ll beat... the odds, princess?” The guy’s words were punctuated with harsh grunts.

“B’cause I... I have... a team. People... care.” Lungs burning. Limbs going numb.

Suddenly, the man thrust balls-deep into Jim’s ass and held him tight, pressed fully against him from top to bottom. “Why would anyone care about you, Kirk?”

“‘cuz I... care... ‘bout... them.”

Jim distantly felt his legs buckle underneath him, but it didn’t stop there. His blood seemed to drain from his head, and the rushing sound in his ears drowned out everything. Somewhere in the distance, he thought he could still hear the guy speaking in his ear.

“Hey, Kirk. Jim? _Jim?_ Dammit... don’t do this to me, kid... _Jim_!”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
  
Jim slowly blinked his eyes open. The room seemed blurry around him, and he wasn’t sure how he’d ended up on his back. The surface he was laying on was soft, the air was warm, and although he was exhausted, his body felt oddly sated, and he just wanted to rest. There was a motion by his elbow, and he heard the sound of a tricorder nearby. Only a couple of seconds later, a hypospray hissed against his neck.

Grunting in protest, Jim swatted his hand clumsily. “Fuck, Bones... can’t ya... leave a guy alone?”

“Jim!” There was a clattering noise as the tricorder was tossed aside, and suddenly Bones had thrown himself across Jim’s torso, clinging to him tightly. “Goddamn... I’m so sorry... I shouldn’t have... Jesus, Jim... I’m... I didn’t... I’m so sorry.” His voice was so rough, obviously from a sore throat, that it didn’t even sound like him.

Jim squirmed under the added weight of Bones’ arms pressing on him, which made his back ache. “Ow... easy there,” he said, noticing that his voice sounded so weak.

Bones’ head popped up, and his face swam into focus - disheveled hair and haunted eyes - even as his arms were still gripping Jim tightly. “Are you okay, Jim? Talk to me. Can you focus on me?”

“I... I’m okay... it’s...” The sensation of Bones’ hands tight on his biceps broke through the mental fog, and like a slow tidal wave, everything came rushing back. He reached his hand up to clasp Bones’ shoulder, and realized that his hand was shaking. His arm was shaking. “Oh God...”

Suddenly, his whole body was shaking and shivering. The gritty details of the last couple of hours crashed through his mind like shattering glass. The mental image of himself, tied up, beaten, and debauched. The jolts of pain ripping through his body. The unforgiving lashes of the whip in Bones’ hands. The burning shame as his body had responded to everything Bones had done to him, and he’d had no control over any of it. And deep underneath it all, he hadn’t wanted any control.

And it had been Bones. He’d known all along, of course, but he hadn’t let himself fall back on that knowledge. He'd put it out of his head, and pretended that it was real. Let himself _believe_ it had been real. They'd both played it true, because that’s what Jim had wanted.

More to the point, he’d asked Bones to do this to him. Begged for it. He’d done this to himself, and he’d gotten exactly what he’d asked for - a brutal onslaught that would take him out of his head. He’d needed something to break through the thick, heavy fatigue that had been weighing on him lately. His failure with the Kobayashi Maru had left him unbalanced, scattered, and unfocused. He hadn’t understood why he was so desperate to take the test again, why he was fixated on it. What the hell was he trying to prove?

He hadn’t expected a real answer - just a temporary escape so he could wallow in the immediacy of the scene and then think about it later when he’d cleared his head. Instead, what he’d gotten was an epiphany like a kick in the gut that had left him reeling, and his abused body and mind were trying to pull it all together in the aftermath and not quite succeeding. Bones was anchoring him, and now he was clinging back like a drowning man with a life raft. Gasping for breath as the full weight of what he’d just experienced crashed over him in wave after wave.

“It’s okay, kid. I’ve got you. Just breathe.” Bones was still holding his arm tightly with one hand, running fingers through his hair with the other, comforting and soothing. “I’ve got you,” he said again. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

“I know, I... oh God.” Jim blinked a few times, flailing weakly with one hand until his fingers found Bones’ arm and gripped it. Bones’ arm was solid and warm underneath his fingers, the one immovable rock in a world that seemed to be spinning out of control around him. He shook his head to himself, then tried to sit up, only to feel the ache in his back redouble and his head spin. “Ouch.”

Bones frowned, and his expression was twisted with concern. “Shh, easy, Jim. Breathe steady, okay? Here, take a few sips of this.”

Bones reached for something off to the side, and a moment later, Jim felt a straw being placed at his lips. He sipped at it automatically - something cool and a bit sweet that tasted faintly like those chewable vitamin supplements he taken as a kid. It was soothing on his throat, and he realized how thirsty he was. When he let go of the straw, Bones nodded and put the cup aside.

“That’s enough for now. But just relax for a minute. You were... I just need to check...” His voice trailed off as he grabbed his tricorder and began scanning.

Despite being shaky and breathless, seeing something so damned _normal_ as Bones with a tricorder almost made Jim grin, despite himself. The peaky look on Bones’ face, however, stopped him. It almost looked like Bones was trying to hide behind his tricorder, carefully avoiding Jim’s gaze. Jim watched as Bones shook his head, grabbed the hypospray again, and snapped a vial into it. Even though he hated those things, he never protested or resisted Bones’ ministrations during aftercare, and Jim obligingly tilted his head sideways and didn’t flinch as Bones pressed it gently against his neck.

Although Jim knew he’d be physically fine without any medical help, and that all his body actually needed was a bit of rest and time for bruises and welts to heal, he also knew that this was the part of aftercare that Bones needed most, for his own sanity. Bones needed to fix what he’d broken, make it right, and take care of everything before he could let himself relax. And if that’s what Bones needed, that was fine by Jim. Within seconds, whatever had been in the hypospray began to work, and Jim felt some of the shaking subside, but Bones didn’t even make eye contact before grabbing the tricorder and scanning again.

Jim took a deep, careful breath to refocus himself. “Hey. Bones.”

But Bones shook his head, frowning fiercely at the small device. “Hold on. I’ve gotta make sure I’ve got you stabilized. I pushed you too far. This is all my fault. Your blood pressure is too low, and --”

“ _Bones_.” Jim reached out and put a hand on the tricorder, slowly pushing it down. “I’m not going to pass out again, so put that thing down for a minute.”

He reluctantly set aside the tricorder, then he grasped Jim’s hand, shaking his head. “My god, Jim, I’m so sorry. I was trying to play the part, and I wasn’t paying close enough attention. I should have realized what was happening. Especially with everything... with what I did to you... can you forgive me?”

“Why should I need to forgive you? I asked you to do it,” Jim insisted, as fervently as he could manage. “You couldn’t have known that I’d pass out. I told you... I had to get out of my head, and it was going to take more than usual to do it this time.”

“There could have been another way, Jim. This scene... it really pushed some limits. Yours, but also mine. I haven’t done anything like this before. I swore I never would. I was... I was always worried that I wouldn’t know the line until I crossed it.” Bones swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m afraid I crossed that line.”

“You didn’t. I asked you to do whatever you thought it would take to get me there.” He squeezed Bones’ hand. “I needed it.”

Bones grumbled. “I’d say that nobody needs that, but... I understand you, Jim.” He patted Jim’s arm awkwardly, then pulled back, picked up his tricorder again, and resumed scanning. His jaw was clenched, and his eyebrows were deeply furrowed.

Jim sighed in frustration, but had to suppress a grin at the image of Bones treating his tricorder like a damned security blanket. “Bones, I’m fine, okay? But you’re going to put a permanent crease between your eyes.”

“You gave me one long ago, kid.” His voice sounded even rougher than before, and shook his head in agitation. “Most of the games we play, I don’t actually hurt you. This time, I did.”

“True,” Jim admitted. “But it’s okay.”

Bones grunted in reply, but didn’t say anything.

“You know, I... knew it was you... but that was one hell of an act. Ever consider a career in theater?” he asked lightly, hoping to get Bones to relax.

Bones all but dropped the tricorder and stared at Jim in disbelief. “Jim, this wasn’t a goddamned stage performance,” he bit out sharply, obviously not relaxing at all. “I hurt you. I terrified you. I attacked you, drugged you, kidnapped you, tortured and finally raped you.” He took a deep breath. “I kept waiting for you to safeword. I actually hoped you would. Goddammit, I almost tapped out myself. I should have.”

“If you needed to, you could have, Bones. And I would have tapped out if I’d needed to. We negotiated this scene. We’ve been playing these games for almost a year.”

“We’ve never played like _this_.” Bones was peaky and tight-lipped, and he looked like he needed more help than Jim did just then.

Jim felt something in his heart ache at the remorse on his friend’s face. Bones had put aside his own reservations and had given Jim something that had pushed them both to their limits. It had probably been harder on Bones than it had been on Jim. “Bones. _Bones_. Stop that. I’m okay. Really.” He reached out a hand and touched Bones’ arm. “Besides, aren’t you the guy who taught me not to feel guilty about my needs?” He gave a sly grin. “Even if they are a little bit out of the ordinary?”

Bones didn’t move for a moment. Then, incrementally, his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah, Jim. I did. Funny thing about doctors... we’re better at giving advice than taking it.” He put aside the tricorder and picked up a dermal regenerator. “Just... let me take care of you for now, okay?”

Jim sighed and offered a resigned smile. “Sure. But lay off the hyposprays, would ya?”

Bones rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Big baby,” then leaned over and held the regen unit against Jim’s neck. The almost visceral memory of the knife Bones had used flashed through Jim’s mind, and the primal surge of fear that had surged through his body as the blade had pressed against his throat came racing back. The warm vibration in his skin from the regenerator was usually soothing, but the vulnerability of having something near his throat made him flinch. Instantly, Bones withdrew the device and sat back.

“Jim? Are you okay?”

Running his tongue over dry lips, Jim nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I just remembered how I got that scratch. Knives are some scary shit.”

“I can heal that later and work on the other marks,” Bones said, his voice carefully neutral.

“No, it’s okay. I’m ready for it now. I just needed... it’s okay. Go ahead.”

Bones pressed his mouth into a thin line - that look he got when he wanted to say something but wouldn’t - and then leaned back in to resume his work. Jim felt his heart beat just a little bit faster until Bones withdrew the regen unit from his neck. Then, without pausing to speak, he reached for Jim’s hand and began working the device around the raw, red ligature marks on his wrists. Jim shivered slightly at the touch.

Really, he liked watching Bones work. He liked those moments when he was the center of Bones’ attention - as long as it didn’t involve hyposprays or verbose lectures regarding his own recklessness. He liked the way his stomach still fluttered just a little bit at the idea of Bones taking care of him. On the other hand, Jim didn’t like the way Bones looked so bleak and guilty this time. As Bones worked, some of the guilt on his face faded, and the familiar look of concentration took over his expression.

Finally, Jim looked away and glanced around the room, only now taking in his surroundings properly for the first time.

The room was sparse, and maybe five by five meters at the most. A table with Bones’ duffel bag of “toys” sat nearby. On the far wall was a set of shackles, a St. Andrew’s Cross, and a spanking bench that had been pushed out of the way. In the center of the room, a couple of ropes dangled from a sturdy cross-beam, and based on the way the ends were frayed, they’d been hastily severed. Mostly, the room was empty, with smooth surfaces. Meant to feel like a dungeon. Jim was lying on the one piece of normal furniture in the room - a leather couch draped in a soft blanket.

“We’re at Balls and Chains, aren’t we?”

Bones nodded, still focusing on his work healing Jim’s wrists. “They were willing to host this scene for me because of all the times I’ve patched up some of their clients under-the-table. And they know us well enough to trust that I wasn’t actually abducting and torturing you against your will. Ted helped me get you here.”

“Smooth, Bones.” Jim grunted as the ache in his back started to throb again, and he made a move to roll onto his front, but Bones stopped him.

“Easy, Jim... I’ll get to those in a minute.” He splayed a warm hand across Jim’s chest. “I couldn’t put you on your stomach while you were unconscious, and I’d rather wait until your blood pressure has been stable for a bit longer before I flip you over.” He shook his head, and an affectionate, chiding grin finally peeked through his mask of guilt. “After all this time I’ve trained you to breathe properly through a scene, you went and choked up on me.”

“See? Told ya it wasn’t your fault,” Jim said, pretending not to be as sheepish as he really felt. “You know,” he mused, “I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d play this scene anonymously.”

“It seemed like the only way to do it,” Bones grumbled, not stopping his work. “I thought if you weren’t completely sure whether or not it was me... at least when we started... then it would be more effective. So I tried to throw you off with that message I sent earlier.” He sighed deeply. “If it looked like it was routed through Starfleet Medical, I figured you’d think I was still there. And then, I didn’t send you any voice comms all week after I caught that sore throat going around campus. If it made it harder to recognize my voice here, I thought it might seem more real.”

Jim furrowed his eyebrows together, then remembered the message he’d received just moments before Bones had set everything in motion. “It did.” He twisted his lips thoughtfully. “That was... really creative. And you were right. It _was_ more effective. You really thought this through.”

Bones merely grumbled noncommittally and switched to Jim’s other wrist. He still looked a bit uncomfortable, and Jim kept quiet, playing the part of the good patient, hoping it would help Bones settle down a bit. Finally, Bones settled Jim’s hand back down on the couch with a gentle pat. Jim started to flip over for him, but Bones held him back. “We’ll get to your back in a minute. Just let me just get those little punctures first.”

Jim nodded and followed Bones’ hands as he quickly ran the regen unit over the tiny pinpricks on his chest, arms, and thighs. “Those things were brutal, Bones. What the hell were they?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said, and reached to side. When he held his hand up, there was only the tiniest sliver of metal pinched between his fingers, barely a centimeter long, with a round disk at its base, perpendicular to the needle.

Jim let his mouth fall open. “That’s _it_? Those tiny little things? It felt like you were stabbing me with a set of Klingon cutlery!”

It was Bones’ turn to look sheepish, but he actually seemed just a little bit proud of himself. “The drug I used on you is something we use on patients with numbness from nerve damage. It’s short-acting, and causes increased sensitivity and nerve function so that we can begin physical therapy sooner. And the electrodes are for testing nerve conductivity. So when I combined the two, it made even the mildest electrical pulse feel much more potent. That way, I could produce some really strong effects without the risk of damage from the electrical current.”

Jim actually laughed. He should have known Bones would use a fancy trick like that. “Strong effects... yeah. That’s one word for it. I thought you were going to electrocute me.”

Bones gave Jim a sincere look. “I’d never put you at risk, kid.”

“I know.” He squirmed as Bones withdrew the regen unit from the last tiny puncture mark, leaving nothing but smooth, whole skin behind. “But you hit me with the whip before you drugged me. So... did you really go that hard?”

The sheepish grin turned into something deeply apologetic and almost painful. “Yeah. I did. And yes, it broke skin. Oh for God’s sake, don’t look so pleased with yourself. Damn masochist. You’re getting a dose of antibiotics after I patch you up.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor.”

Bones scowled at him, but Jim knew Bones’ bizarre quirks of affection well enough. “Okay, let’s take a look at your back. Here... give me your hand. Easy there.”

Carefully, Bones levered Jim up and helped him ease over onto his stomach. A moment later, the regen unit was humming away over his back, and Jim let himself physically relax, turning his head sideways to watch Bones as he worked. It didn’t take long for Bones to notice that Jim was studying his every movement. With a sigh, he laid a warm hand on Jim’s shoulder and began rubbing gently but firmly.

“Just a few minutes of this, kid. I’ll re-treat the deep ones later to get the last of the damage.”

“Leave the ones that didn’t break skin.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want a trace.”

Jim shrugged, feeling the deep ache of the damaged skin and tissue on his back. “Changed my mind. I want a reminder.”

Bones raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh?” It was an open-ended question, something he often did when he knew that Jim just needed to talk.

“I... think I really got what I needed out of this. More than I’d expected when I asked you to do it.” He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “I went in needing to get out of my head, but I also knew that if I was going to keep trying to push limits like this... standing out... that I’d need to know what I was fighting for. _Why_ I was doing it. Had to test my... my conviction, I guess.”

Bones nodded. “I thought you were saying something just before you passed out. Want to share your revelation?”

“I realized,” Jim said softly, “that I wasn’t doing it for myself.”

“Really now, Mr. Golden Pedestal?” His tone was sarcastic, but not cutting. It was actually a gentle invitation, if a teasing one.

Jim licked his lips, nodding slowly. “Yeah, really. I want to be a leader someday, but the reason I’m doing this shit now is to make sure I’m ready for anything later... so I can take care of the people I’m leading. Because...” He cleared his throat roughly. “Because I really do care about them, Bones.”

“I know you do, kid.”

“No, you don’t,” Jim said, thoughtfully, carefully. “I didn’t know it myself, but... I get it now. And I know why I was so furious when the _Maru_ blew up on the simulator screen. All those _people_ , Bones! And I was responsible for them.”

“It was just a simulation, Jim.”

Jim raised his head and looked at Bones until he met his gaze. “Someday, it won’t be.”

Slowly, Bones nodded, then turned back to begin working the dermal regenerator again.

Jim settled back down so Bones had easier access to his back, resting his chin on his folded arms and staring blankly at the wall. “I want... I guess I want people to trust that I can handle any situation. But first, I need to trust myself. Test myself. I think that’s why I keep sticking my neck out.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I test myself against everything I possibly can... even if it’s beyond anything I’ll actually need to do... then I know I can handle anything when the shit really hits the fan. Then I can trust myself to lead.”

He let out a slow breath, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions as the warmth of the regen unit soaked into his abused flesh. “That’s why I need to beat the Kobayashi Maru, Bones. Everyone’s going to think it’s just because I can’t leave well enough alone, and that I just need to show off. Okay, so maybe that’s a little bit true. But seriously, I need to know that I can think outside the box, and that I won’t quit until I solve every problem. If I give up on something now, in training, will I give up when it really matters? When there are lives at risk?”

“I don’t think you’d give up on people, Jim. I don’t think you know how to give up.”

“I hope you’re right,” Jim said, then glanced up to meet Bones’ gaze. “Because I realized... I care about them. Not just...” He paused, realizing he didn’t quite have the words for it. Nothing adequate anyway. There were no words he could use to describe why he’d been completely crushed after failing the _Maru_ the first time, or the fierce sense of protectiveness that had welled up in him when he’d suddenly understood it for himself. No words to describe the split second when he’d realized it hadn’t been about winning for his own accolades. When he’d really _known_ what the burden of command would ask of him, and just how desperately he was willing to give it. “I just... I really fucking care about them.”

A smile crept across Bones’ face. “Jim... I _know_.”

Jim felt his cheeks flush. “Oh.”

“Yeah, kid.” Bones turned back to his work, focusing on the dermal regenerator and the welts on Jim’s back, but he reached out with his other hand and squeezed Jim's shoulder. “I know.”

Jim nodded, then rested his head on his arms again, and sighed. “I also needed to remember that I’m nothing special.”

“You are -”

“That is,” Jim continued right over him, “I’m nothing special by myself.” A smile tugged the corners of his mouth, and he felt a familiar wave of heat behind his eyes. “But... I’m not in this alone.”

Bones nodded slowly. “You’ve got Nova Squadron. You’ve got your hand-to-hand team. The Xenolinguistics Club... even though I swear Cadet Uhura is going to twist your cock into a pretzel someday if she decides you’ve looked at her the wrong way.”

“Ooh, kinky. Maybe I should tempt fate there and see if she’ll do it.”

With a dramatic eye-roll, Bones grumbled, “Masochistic brat.”

“Yeah. But I wasn’t just talking about them.” Jim propped himself up on one elbow, ignoring the ache the movement caused through his back. “I meant you.”

Bones, who’d looked like he was about to protest and demand that Jim lie back down so he could finish the regen session, froze. “Jim?” he said vaguely.

“Bones, you were willing to push past all your limits and do this for me - to me - because I asked you to. You’ve saved my life. I’ve saved yours. There’s nobody else in the galaxy I’d want backing me up... or beating me up. If I’ve got you, then I _know_ I’m not in this alone.” He licked his lips, which suddenly seemed too dry. He and Bones were close, sharing a unique friendship that they’d never bothered to define or limit. But they didn’t usually talk about feelings. Not like this. He didn’t really have the words for it, but he had to make sure Bones understood. “I know you care about me.”

Bones eyes widened, just a little bit, in surprise at such a plain statement. He nodded his comprehension. “I do, Jim. And you care, too.”

“About you,” Jim confirmed. “But also about them.” He tilted his head. “Everyone else. You took care of me, and I want to be able to repay the favor. And to be able to take care of everyone else when the time comes. But I have to be sure that I _can_ , Bones.” He nodded to himself. “So I’ve decided... I’m definitely going to take the test again.”

“You’re really going to go back for seconds?”

“Yeah.”

Bones sighed in resignation. “It’s the goddamned Kobayashi Maru, Jim. That takes a special kind of masochism.”

“Then I’m perfect for the job.”

With a soft chuckle, Bones ruffled Jim’s hair. “Nobody’s ever beaten that test. Nobody’s supposed to beat it.”

“And nobody believed the faster-than-light travel was possible until Cochrane did it. Bones, the only difference between good men and great men is that the great ones didn’t give up when someone told them that something couldn’t be done. The great ones... they made the hard decisions - to find a different answer, to keep pushing themselves, or to put everything on the line for something bigger.”

The regenerator stopped humming, and a second later, Bones leaned on the edge of the sofa cushion, his face inches away from Jim’s. “So... you think you’re great, huh?”

Without hesitation, Jim shook his head. “No. But I want to be.”

Slowly, a smile curled one corner of Bones’ mouth into something affectionate and resigned at once. “You know, Jim... I think you will be.” He reached up and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, spreading it over Jim’s legs and up to his shoulders.

The room was warm enough, but the soft weight of the blanket seemed to settle all the way through Jim’s body, and he realized how exhausted he was from the scene. He closed his eyes and settled his head deeper into the folds of his arms. “Mmm... how long until we have to be out of here?”

“The manager owed me a favor. We’ve got it all night if you need it.”

“Nah,” Jim mumbled sleepily. “I just need a little while... maybe a half hour.”

“Only if your blood pressure is back up. I don’t need you passing out on the curb while we wait for the transport car.”

“Yes, Mom.”

Bones gave an exasperated snort. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah. But seriously, I’d like to get back to campus.”

“Comfortable territory?”

Jim nodded.

“Okay. Then you’re staying in my room tonight,” Bones said firmly.

“Ooh, cozy. Breakfast in bed?”

Bones rolled his eyes. “Cheeky brat. Jim, you’re going to be an emotional mess tomorrow morning.”

Jim let his shoulders slump in resignation. “You know me too well, Bones.” He shook his head to himself and took a deep breath. “I know I haven’t really processed this yet. And yeah, I’m probably going to hit an emotional crash later. But it’s fine. I expected it.”

Bones grumbled deep in his throat and gave Jim an unreadable look.

Jim frowned. “Hey, are you okay?”

The look resolved into a pained grimace. “Mostly.”

“What is it?”

“Jim...” He sighed. “I did this because I want to give you what you need. I _like_ giving you what you need. But... for the same reason... it hurt me to do this to ya, kid. I’m probably going to crash, too. Just... stick around this weekend, okay?”

Jim took in the stress lines around Bones eyes, and the tense press of his lips. Bones was a man who seldom asked for anything. Usually, after a scene, if he needed to cope with his own emotional aftermath, he’d keep his sanity by doting on Jim and checking vital signs like a nervous habit. And Jim would be a good patient and let him. It was the way they worked. The balance between them was complicated, rough around the edges, but intense and trusting. And they _knew_ each other. So Jim knew that when Bones asked for something, he really, really needed it.

“I will, Bones. No problem. But... why?”

Bones opened his mouth, then closed it quickly and shook his head for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was subdued. “I just need to make sure I didn’t... that it’s okay. That you’re okay.” He coughed once. “That we’re okay.”

 _Oh_. “We’re okay, Bones. We’re okay.”

A small smile, broken but hopeful, tugged the corners of Bones’ mouth. “Close your eyes, kid. Rest for a little while. Then we’ll head home.”

With a contented sigh and a nod, Jim closed his eyes and let his body relax deeper into the sofa cushions. A warm hand settled on his shoulder and began rubbing the length of his back through the blanket. The duller stings from the whip marks that Bones hadn’t healed sent a satisfying ache through him, riding on the back of the intense endorphin high that hadn’t quite worn off. Bones’ other hand reached up and gripped his arm.

Jim let himself give an appreciative sigh. “Thanks, Bones. For everything.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

That night, if Jim found himself waking up on Bones’ couch with a start, heart pounding and muscles trembling, it was nobody else’s business. And if Bones woke up when Jim cried out, and then physically dragged him from the couch back to his bed even though it really wasn’t big enough for two grown men, it was only natural. If Bones got upset with himself during the night for what he’d done, Jim didn’t see the tears in the darkened room, and the sniffling could have been the remnants of the cold bug, even though he knew better. If they woke up in the morning with their arms and legs tangled together, it wasn’t their fault that the bed was too small.

If Jim returned to his classes with refreshed determination and a clear head, it was easy to wink at his classmates and hint at a good time he had last Friday. And if he snuck back to Bones’ room after class to wait for him with a bag of Chinese takeout, a pack of ice cold beer, and a warm embrace, then that’s what any guy would do if his best friend was having a rough time. And if Jim lied that his roommate snored too much so that Bones wouldn’t have to ask him to stay, it was a fair lie because Bones could see right through it and that was fine with both of them.

And then, when Bones showed up at Training Sim Facility Two a few weeks later, waiting to catch Jim as he marched out of his second failure at the _Kobayashi Maru_ , it felt right. And if Jim wasn’t upset because he’d once again failed to beat the test, that was because he knew that it was only over when he gave up. And when he figured out how to crack the test months later after serving as bridge crew for someone else’s run at the _Maru_ , he knew that Bones would be there to see him when he finally proved to himself, and the world, that he really was ready to take on anything.

  
*********

~FIN~


End file.
